Authors Note: Well this chapter is much shorter then the first chapter as I ended it where I felt it should be. There's a large well of information here. I am warning everyone that Harry/Trowa is a very dark character. There will be times when you completely hate him for what he does. All of the characters will be darker then most write them and what you expect.

Sorry for the long wait and thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

Chapter 2

Staring down the barrel of the rifle Remus said nothing. He held his hands pressing against the painful, bleeding wound on his calf, his eyes focusing on the instrument that would be sure to kill him. Looking over the male before him, he tried to find any similarities. Eyeing the gymnastically muscled body, Remus tried to find a glimpse of Harry. Of the boy who had looked so much like his father it was surreal. There was none. The proud stance, the steady and cruel gaze of a killer. There were no similarities to his old self let alone his father. There was also an almost arrogant upturn of his lips as the boy before him noticed the bead of sweat falling down the side of his face. The kid was enjoying his nerves.

A loud bang echoed and Remus flinched. He did not jump he did not fall to the side; he flinched, his eyes closing only for a second. Was this his death? Staring forward and seeing the cruel mocking grin on the face before him, Remus wanted to throttle the brat. He was playing with him. In that instant Remus hated Harry Potter, hated the fact that he was once again stuck to clean up his pieces before he shook that thought from his head. He had promised the boys father to always look after him and he would. However, he was also a soldier, a man and one of the strongest in the order. His pride wanted the boy to stop playing with him. If he was going to kill him then he should just do it already.

Remus turned his head, following the trail of the bullet. It had hit the filing cabinet behind him. The papers would be destroyed. Turning back, he watched as Harry flexed his finger, almost exercising it as he once more placed it against the trigger giving an experimental squeeze. It was like a cat with the mouse. He was showing Remus that he was the one in control and one wrong word would be the end of him. In that moment, Remus felt all of his years. In that moment looking into the sharp, predatory eyes of Harry, he wished he could die. Then he would not longer have to watch his students lose themselves in the war, which was already two years too long.

"Harry." Remus stood unsteadily, his lips pulling back in a pained growl. The wound hurt and would not stop bleeding.

There was a flash of recognition in the eyes staring at him with loathing. The loathing was directed at both Remus and himself. His hands trembled for a second before any sign of weakness and emotion was hidden behind steel. Remus felt a surge of success. He was reaching the boy. Dumbledore had been right this kid really was Harry Potter.

"Why are you here?" he finally spoke, his voice soft.

"You know why," Remus responded. It was the wrong answer. Harry in an instant hit in hard in the gut with the butt of the rifle.

His breath escaped as he grabbed his gut and fell to the floor, his wound screaming out in agonising pain as he landed on it. Harry had hurt him for answering him almost flippantly. In that moment, Harry had said everything that needed to be said. He would not tolerate being lied to, he would not tolerate half-truths and he wanted the answer. In that moment Remus despised the boy and pulling his wounded leg beneath him, he stared up at the cruel, stony face of the man that could be his executioner.

"I shall ask you again why are you here and why now?"

Remus said nothing. Was there any need? It seemed that Harry had already made up his mind. Remus could see that Harry did not really care, that he had made his point clear; he was no longer the Harry that Remus once knew. Was that a good thing? The old Harry would not be able to handle how the war had turned but this new version could. Yet with the darkness clear in his eyes and the sheer complacency that he had with holding a weapon, he would be a loose weapon. Was that better? Taking a deep breath, Remus tried to steady his rapid heartbeat. He was sure he was going have a heart attack; he was getting too old for all this stress. Placing a hand on the ground, Remus tried to hide a grimace. The floor was damp and the concrete had an almost sand like texture. For such important documents, Remus wondered why they had not placed them in a more secure, better-decorated room. Not some grungy basement.

"Answer me Remus. I can walk up these stairs with you bound and gagged to hand you over to the firing squad. No one will know you were ever here, no one will ever care. You will become another nameless enemy. Then when they are cleaning your bloody remains from the grounds, I shall go home and forget you ever appeared. I am very good at that. After all I forgot about all of you when I first arrived," Trowa crouched to be at the same level as Remus. It would make Remus feel as if they were once again on the same level, as if Trowa was being nice and giving him a way out. Trowa had used this tactic before when interrogating someone. Reaching a hand out, he placed it tactically on Remus' tweed sleeve, the fabric itchy under his fingertips. It was a perfectly planned move. He had once done the same thing as Harry begging to understand what had happened, begging Remus to tell him more about his parents. With this move, Remus would forget he was Trowa, instead thinking that he was Harry just buried deep under his own grief. It was a perfectly rational strategy and he felt no guilt at playing on Remus' emotions.

"It was either me or them. I needed to find out information and I had to get it by any means necessary. They would not be harmed, so there was no need to feel guilt," Remus almost shrugged it off as he spoke. He felt justified in his actions, his eyes looking earnestly at Trowa as if he would understand. He reached forward once more to prove that Trowa was there, but Trowa moved slightly so that Remus' hands fell on empty air. It had been a while so Remus felt no insult. Instead, a bloom of hope grew within his chest. Harry was remembering.

"So you stunned them? Remus I would have thought that you would have learned by now not to just stun them. Aren't you an order member? Aren't you in the front-line against Voldemort? Why not kill them? Is it because of their ages? Are you blinded by appearance? Surely, doesn't that give Voldemort more an easy way to win? Make his soldiers all children. Remus you are still sentimental. They would have killed you within a second if they could," Trowa responded almost fondly. Standing up, his hands on his knees as he did so, he looked down at the stooping figure of Remus. He had gotten a whiff of a heady musk. Remus still smelt the same and it almost took Trowa back if he allowed himself. He did not.

"Wow Trowa you can actually speak! Though why are you telling the stranger to kill us? Why are you giving him tips? Are you against us again? Well are you buddy?" Duo spoke up, irate and passionate once again. He was a brilliant soldier, a great killer but Duo did no understand subvert operations and often got irate with not being able to understand. Trowa had played the double agent so often, he could not tell if Trowa was really their friend or if he was really being a double agent for someone else. It confused him and gave him a headache.

"He deserves that much being the best friend of Harry's parents," Trowa spoke of Harry as a separate entity, as if he was a stranger or someone long gone. Trowa watched as the hope started to fade in Remus's eyes. Was he saying that he had gotten the wrong person? Trowa knew that it probably hurt the other but he had to realise he and Harry were not the same person. Not any more.

"Who's Harry?" Duo asked his brown wrinkling and for a brief second Trowa considered telling him that he would wrinkle if he continued to frown.

"Harry Potter is my best friend's son. He's the hero of a war at my home but he disappeared," Remus started trying to get Trowa to let something slip. These boys could get under Trowa's skin he could see it and Remus would use that to his own advantage.

"Shut up Remus. Harry Potter is dead." The reply was low and yet there was a steely undercurrent to it. Remus quickly closed his mouth, mentally berating himself for allowing a child to tell him what to do.

"Well if Harry Potter is dead why is this man here looking through classified information searching for him?" Wufei asked Trowa straight, his eyes gleaming in distrust.

Turning his head Trowa glared at the boy, his lips pulling back and his eyes narrowing. Sometimes Wufei annoyed him. Sometimes Wufei did not know when to just leave things alone. Sometimes Trowa wished Heero had killed Wufei when he had the chance. It would make his life as the subterfuge expert a lot easier. His fingers flexed on the rifle, feeling the cool metal in his sweating palm. A gun often calmed him. His head ran through the options available to him. He could kill Remus. All of his problems would go away and yet he could not. He knew if he did, the old batty headmaster would send someone else after him before declaring him the next dark lord. Trowa also knew that deep down guilt would bite at his insides until he shot himself. That was why he had not been able to kill the man.

"Harry Potter is not dead. We tracked him. He's here, alive," Remus stood his breathing slightly erratic. Trowa smelt the musk under his nose and tried to swallow the memories that were resurfacing. They were not his memories. They were Harry's.

"Did you not see the body? No one can survive the loss of that much blood," Trowa said cruelly.

Watching he saw Remus' face drop, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching. Trowa knew what he was remembering. The bath red in colour from the blood gushing from deeply cut wrists. An emaciated form drowning in its own blood as they probably tried to rescue the boy to no avail. The boy hero had killed himself. He was sure they were still mourning the loss now. Yet with Remus here he knew the old fool had followed his trail of breadcrumbs although it had taken him longer then Trowa had bet on.

"Trowa what is going on?" Quatre's voice was soft as he stepped in front of him, light blue eyes staring intently at Trowa. Pleading with him to put the rifle down. Quatre was a fool when it came to emotions. He would often let the enemy go when they talked about their families back home. Trowa thought that Quatre needed to get real, that he needed to understand that just because a murderer had a child it made him no less of a killer. He would still kiss his children good night, tuck them into bed, then turn around, and shoot a person dead. That was how real life was and standing there, looking at Remus and feeling Quatre staring at him; Trowa wished that Quatre could grow up and learn how the world really worked and mind his own damn business.

"I shall tell you later." Trowa did not look down or away from Remus. He knew what would happen if he did. He knew that Quatre would lower his eyes and pout lips that he loved to kiss. He knew that Quatre would lick his bottom lip in a form of cuteness that would get Trowa heavily aroused and needing a cold shower. Quatre knew how to play him. Although he was technically a virgin, Trowa was sure about that, Quatre knew how to play on Trowa's libido and the fact that although he would kill without a second thought, his brain was often firmly ensconced within his pants.

"Trowa we need to know information. If he got in here then others could." Heero's tone was cold. Green eyes were glaring at Trowa, his messy hair seemingly even messier and his own finger loose on the trigger of his own gun.

"Are you really sparing the life of an intruder?" Trowa's voice was sardonic as he put the safety on. The gun was still trained on Remus but his attention was on Heero who had a slight smile on his lips. All of which Quatre did not miss.

Quatre felt bitter and resentful. Trowa had not listened to him. Instead, he had once more listened to Heero. It always seemed to be that way. Folding his arms over his chest, he turned and looked at the aged man kneeling on the damp stone floor. He seemed pitiful, pathetic and Quatre felt sympathy for him, his hand going to his heart as he felt the overwhelming sense of grief. As he closed his eyes letting himself sink down into the emotions of the room, he was brought back roughly by a strong grip on his arm, fingers tight around his bicep. Quatre grimaced in pain as he opened his eyes and stared into the stony gaze of Trowa.

"Let the secrets remain like that for a little while longer," Trowa said it kindly enough and yet there was a dangerous undertone to his voice. Quatre nodded, wanting that soft smile to appear. It was only a small upturn of his lips but Quatre loved that little smile that made Trowa seem awkward and adorable at the same time. It did not appear, instead his gaze hardened as he turned to face the crouching man once more.

"It seems as if we've come to a stalemate so Remus I shall give you the count of five. In five seconds, you need to convince me to keep you alive. If you don't you shall die down here and no one will ever know." Trowa's tone was shaking. It was as if his temper was near it's end, as if he wanted to scream in frustration but he never would. That would make him stand out. It would cause others to remember him and for others to have something to hold over him. He could not allow that. Shifting the rifle, the weight pulling against him, he clicked the safety off once more to prove his point. He knew that saying something was never enough. He had to show he was serious.

"Harry?" Remus repeated the name, his eyes staring at the gun, at the long fingers pulling at the trigger and the pressed lips.

"One." The tone was light as if counting down until it was time to go home. The dull lighting threw dark shadows across Trowa's face causing his cheekbones to seem even sharper and his jaw more pronounced. He looked like a killer and for the first time Remus doubted that, this was Harry.

"Please Harry be reasonable I'm sure there is no need for it to be like this. I'm not an enemy," Remus tried to reason with Trowa. Tried to get through to the side that was Harry. Trowa's jaw tightened and his eyes seemed to darken.

"Two." Trowa's voice was still low, long fingers tapping on the soot coloured rifle almost melodically.

"Harry? Listen to me." Remus held his hands out in a form of surrender. Remus fleetingly thought that he should not bite his nails any more, they were cracked around the edges and the skin was peeling. If he lived through this then he would most definitely stop biting them.

"Three."

Remus did not try again. By the look of Trowa's face, the lips pulled back into a snarl like grimace; there was no reasoning with him. A dripping sound was almost rhythmic, a welcome distraction. It was probably where the damp smell was coming from. His eyes glanced at the boys standing near Trowa. There was no sympathy there, no mercy. The one closest to Trowa was staring at him with malice and there deep down in the green eyes Remus could see that he was trying to work everything out. Remus stayed there on the ground, the damp seeping into his corduroy trousers. It was uncomfortable but as long as he could feel that, it meant he was still alive. He looked at Trowa, pressed his lips together and nodded only briefly.

"Do what you will." Remus closed his eyes as he saw the long tapered fingers press the trigger just a little bit more. Trowa was playing with him.

"Four."

Remus did not move. He bowed his head and behind his closed eyes saw the smiling face of James potter winking at him after a row with Lily. As another drop fell, Remus saw Sirius rolling his eyes as another girl proclaimed her love for him only to be cruelly mocked. It was true; you would really see your life flash before your eyes. Remus had been in many life and death situations, facing the enemy, do or die yet kneeling here as if waiting for the executioner, Remus was more scared and had time to see his life. Who would have thought that it would have been his best friend's child to be the one to shoot him? Though no one thought that weak willed Peter would betray all and join Voldemort. The unexpected always had a way of happening.

"Five. Goodbye Remus."

Remus' heart skipped a beat at the expressionless tone. Harry had shut off and Remus was sorry. He was sorry that he had caused his student to go through this, sorry to Dumbledore that he could bring the hope back to his eyes and sorry to the Weasley family for not being able to bring back their eighth child. Curling his fingers tightly into a fist, adrenaline surged through his veins, causing his heart to beat wildly. He was going to die.

Quatre was watching it all, his hand over his heart. He was doing what Trowa had told him not to. He was finding out the secrets. The biggest being that Trowa was actually human, able to love and feel fear. The love that Trowa felt for this man was something that Quatre had felt for his own father. Trowa had said that he had no family that his family had died and he could not remember how. Standing there, Quatre felt a mixture of emotions. Betrayal was at the forefront; he had lied once more to him. Trowa did have a family. Although Quatre knew that Trowa often forwent telling him things to finally see it as fact hurt more then he expected. The bitter part inside of him that was snarling and growling in anger wanted Trowa to kill the man. To make him feel the pain of losing something so important and the guilt that he would feel afterwards. The selfish part felt gleeful knowing that Trowa would need him. Would need his arms, his kisses and would never leave him but Quatre knew that he could not let Trowa do this to himself.

"Trowa stop playing around. It has gotten repetitive." Heero was calm, his gun placed back in its hiding place. He did not seem to care that that the enemy was still alive and Quatre watched the interaction with interest. Heero's eyes never left Trowa's; his body moving steadily forward. When Quatre looked towards Trowa, he saw the awkward smile he loved so dearly playing at the edge of his lips.

"So you finally figured it out? I thought that Duo would have caught on before you did," Trowa's tone was dry as he pulled the safety on, threw the rifle on the floor and stretched. A gun was heavy and although they were trained to hold, the weapon for days at a time if needed it was still refreshing to be finally able to drop it.

"Hey what's that supposed to mean?"

"It took me a while. You're getting better," Heero responded ignoring Duo's insulted remark. Heero's face was blank; his boots that were polished had become dirty and smeared. He looked straight at Trowa who was ignoring everyone else around him. He could see what was going on. He knew that Trowa needed to think he was just playing a game but Heero knew Trowa better then Trowa knew himself. Heero knew that desire to kill to hide from your past. It never worked out in your favour.

"Mmm, though he should die as he did enter the vaults and the result is death," Trowa replied noncommittally as he turned to the almost whimpering form on the ground. He felt rotten for having broken Remus down but it was needed. Remus needed to know that this was the person he had come to be.

This was the body that Harry's soul had chosen to inhabit.